


and serve warm

by mazily



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 05:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19245181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mazily/pseuds/mazily
Summary: Tasha Yar and Kira Nerys, on Deep Space Nine after the Dominion War. A tale told in five meals.





	and serve warm

**Author's Note:**

> for [@yedrindax](http://tumblr.com/yedrindax), in the Trek Rarepair Swap.

"Here, you eat it," Tasha says. Nerys looks over, takes the jumja stick Tasha passes her like it's something dangerous: a grenade, on fire, poison. Nerys smiles. Doesn't laugh, doesn't say,  _ I told you you wouldn't like it _ . She looks at the jumja stick. Thinks,  _ I could eat it _ , thinks _ , once upon a time we'd both give thanks to the Prophets for anything at all; _ drops it in a recycler instead. She looks up: she's fallen behind. She picks up her pace. They take another lap around the Promenade. 

*

A fast day. A day to give thanks to the Emissary (may he return soon; may he take as long as he needs to return). Nerys stretches her arms above her head, feels the echoing pop of her shoulders, her neck, realigning after a day spent in prayer. Tries not to look too longingly at Tasha's meal.  _ She offered to eat before your regular dinner date _ , Nerys reminds herself. 

"I don't think I could," Tasha says. She twirls her spoon through her soup, seeming to watch the spirals and swirls it leaves on the surface. "It would feel too much like--"

"There are exceptions," Nerys says. "For those who can't--even now, it's a problem. Maybe it always will be. But it doesn't bother me in that way. It just makes me feel closer to the Prophets, one with them or something. I can't explain it." Words aren't her strength: determination, on the other hand, ferocity and bravery. 

Tasha's palm is cold on the back of Nerys's hand. 

"Finish your dinner," Nerys says.

Tasha lifts her hand from Nerys's. Nerys's entire arm feels unmoored, like the gravity's gone offline.

She swallows a spoonful of soup. Smiles around her spoon, rolls her eyes at Nerys, at herself, at the two of them. Nerys checks the time. It's still daylight in Kendra Province; she won't be able to eat until past midnight, station time, and her stomach growls. 

*

"It's beautiful," Tasha says.

Nerys hums in agreement. She lies on her back, eyes closed against the brightness of the sun. Liccie bugs buzz, drawn by the remains of their lunch; she swats at them lazily. Families laugh, talk, play nearby. The Yolja is full and rolling. This park is one of her favorite places on Bajor, now. (The trick is not remembering it as it was before. A trick they've all had to learn; every nook and crevice on the planet has a  _ before _ haunting it.)

"You're not even looking," Tasha says.

"I know what it looks like," Nerys says. "The river, the timpok trees, happy families, the sun."

"The big--is that a pugabeast?--near the edge of the woods."

Nerys opens her eyes, wary but muscles already tensing: ready to yell  _ run _ , to fight, to protect. She turns to face the place where the woods turn, sudden and glorious, to open field. Exhales. "It's a hyurin," she says. "You made me open my eyes for a  _ hyurin _ ."

"Well, how am I supposed to know the difference between a pugabeast and a rodent?" Tasha says, teasing. She crouches, contorts her body, until her face takes up Nerys's line of vision. Her eyes twinkling, lovely. Slightly pink from an unexpected allergy to nipujan pollen.

"Beautiful," Nerys says. 

Tasha's cheeks are pink. Nerys touches one, warm and soft. She leans forward. Their lips meet.

*

Nerys stops halfway to the door. Tasha is wearing a dress: blue and falling just above her knees and  _ she told me she felt uncomfortable in dresses _ , Nerys thinks,  _ but maybe I misunderstood what she meant _ . Tasha's legs are amazing. Nerys can't help but stare _.  _ Nerys could spend the entire night just looking at her. Longing to touch, but watching instead. 

"Too much?" Tasha says. She finally steps forward. The door sliding closed behind her.

"Where did you get that?" Nerys asks, followed quickly by, "No, not too much. You look wonderful."

"Deanna," Tasha says. 

Nerys still hasn't met Deanna. She hopes she's not too like her mother; thinks she can't be, not and be such close friends with Tasha, but then she remembers the ambassador and Odo and their strange prickly friendship and her mind just turns in circles. 

"Tell her thank you from me."

"Tell her yourself," Tasha says. "I told her we'd meet her for drinks at Quarks tomorrow night."

_ What if I don't want to _ , Nerys thinks, doesn't say. She doesn't want Tasha to know how afraid she is. How nervous. (She, a survivor of the Cardassian occupation. She, a freedom fighter and veteran of the Dominion War. Afraid to meet one of Tasha's oldest friends; a member of her chosen family.)

"Don't worry," Tasha says, "She doesn't bite--unless you ask, of course."

*

Hasperat doesn't taste as good cold. Tasha is drinking something tart and fruity--bubbles and alcohol and overpriced because Quark decided that it's a completely unique beverage in the history of drinking--and her plate is long empty. 

("You're late."

"There was an emergency call from Ashalla,"  _ long and boring and unimportant in the grand scheme of things. _ Nerys sighed. Looked down at the Harperat Tasha must've ordered an hour earlier. "You don't have to wait while I eat. I'll see you at home."

"Lucky for you, I just ordered something expensive and alcoholic," Tasha said. "I don't mind sitting with you.")

Nerys can't eat another bite: her tongue hurts, and she's tired and thirsty. She pushes her plate across the table. Says, "Here, you eat it." 


End file.
